


LIKE HELL (let's see who's boss)

by Black_Calliope



Series: Food war verse [2]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: M/M, crack!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-15
Updated: 2011-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-24 15:32:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Calliope/pseuds/Black_Calliope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Seriously? I caught you throwing eggs using a spoon as a freaking <i>catapult</i>, Adam!’ Lane pointed the spoon accusingly to his chest.</p><p>Adam shifts his weight from a leg to the other, his boots squeaking on the sticky floor. ‘Uhm, we were just having fun?’ he offers, not sure of how he’s supposed to reply to this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	LIKE HELL (let's see who's boss)

**Author's Note:**

> Not mine, just playing.

Seriously, they should’ve known that this would happen.

Still Lane has them in line in front of her like a bunch of kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

Last time Tommy checked the clock her tirade was about to reach ten minutes. And now, as she goes on talking, Tommy briefly wonders if there exists some kind of world record for it, because she could probably beat it in a blink of an eye.

At his left side Adam mutters something, leaning a bit against him. Tommy isn’t sure if he’s just searching for a bit of comfort or trying to hide under his shirt – which is soaking wet with tomato juice, but whatever –so he just glances briefly at him, a corner of his lips angled in a little smile, before Lane starts ranting again.

‘Seriously? I caught you throwing eggs using a spoon as a freaking _catapult_ , Adam!’ Lane pointed the spoon accusingly to his chest.

Adam shifts his weight from a leg to the other, his boots squeaking on the sticky floor. ‘Uhm, we were just having fun?’ he offers, not sure of how he’s supposed to reply to this. Because, come on, last time he was caught doing something like that was…

Actually, he isn’t sure he ever did.

‘Oh, we did,’ Taylor grins. And Terrance and Sasha ability to elbow him at the same exact moment would almost be amazing if not for the sharp glance that Lane throws at them.

‘Sorry, what did you just say?’ she asks. The spoon suddenly changing target from Adam to the dancer.

Tommy wonders if she knows how freaking intimidating she sounds. He can perfectly picture her practicing in front of a mirror, eyebrows frowning and hands on her hips, right as his mom was used to do when he was a kid and she caught him doing something wrong.

Taylor looks around as if searching for help. But the eloquent silence that follows is very indicative of the amount of fear that Lane manages to instill in each one of them.

Probably, from the other side of the room, the head of lettuce is grinning a bit in revenge.

‘Thought so,’ Lane concludes at the end, a hint of a smirk tickling the edge of her lips. Taylor is visibly pouting and warily eyeing the spoon, but she doesn’t seem to care about it.

‘So,’ she starts again, opening the broom closet’s door, ‘since you had so much fun throwing vegetables all around like a bunch of bored three-year olds, these will be your toys for the next few hours,’ As she starts passing mops, buckets and cleansers to them.

Sasha and Taylor seem to open their mouth to say something – _are you freaking kidding me?!_ – but Lane’s stone cold look seems to convince them that a bit of housecleaning is the best choice at the moment.

Terrance instead grabs with nonchalance a cleanser and goes rummaging in a drawer, pulling out of it a pair of latex gloves and wearing them. Tommy could almost swear that he’s heard him saying something about vinegar being an excellent degreaser which- seriously, how the hell does he know it?

Anyway, he is still trying to figure out how to use the mop without blinding himself by accident when Lane speaks again. ‘I will be right out there, so don’t try to sneak away,’ is her last warning right before setting the spoon on the counter and exiting the door.

‘Sure boss,’ Tommy mutters, eyeing doubtfully the mop in his hands. Seriously, how is he supposed to survive to this?

But then Adam grabs his arm and tugs him against his chest. ‘Your hair looks horrible, you know?’ he giggles against his ear, while one of his hands goes picking pieces of something – eggshells? – from his hair.

Somehow Tommy would like to emphasize the fact that, yes, he already noticed, but instead he chooses to ignore Adam’s very obvious comment. ‘You’re dripping on me,’ he replies instead.

Adam snorts. ‘Quit whining, princess, it’s just olive oil.’ ‘You’re supposed to save me from the bitch, not shower me,’ he remarks. Because, come on, what were chevaliers for if they couldn’t even save you from an angry manager?

Adam’s laugh reverberates through his chest right as Tommy grins, delighted by his own comment. The angles are all wrong and his shirt is soaking wet – and kind of smelly too – but Adam doesn’t seem to mind, so Tommy relaxes in his arms, playing absently with the stick of the mop. ‘That woman always manages to ruin the fun,’ he complains, just because he can.

Adam twists him in his arms, taking Tommy’s face in his hands. 'Well, we could always elope to Mexico,' he suggests, his big smile shining like the sun on a summer morning. Tommy blinks, a bit blinded by it, and considers the option for a second, the mop suddenly forgotten in his hands.

They wouldn’t have to clean; they could just sleep and swim all day long. No worries, no squashed tomatoes and, most of all, no tiny, evil managers threatening them with a spoon, but- 'Something tells me that she would find us anyway.' Tommy mutters.

And yes, he believes it. Mainly because Lane has powers, and she manages to keep them in line even when she’s not there. All it takes is a text, and they start running around like a bunch of trained puppies. No shit, he believes that she might even have them jumping through fire circles if she just wanted to.

And then, as Adam opens his mouth to say something – _No kidding!_ – Lane’s head appears in the open doorway. 'Yes, I would. And then I would drag you back here and make you scrub away pieces of dried dough and tomatoes with a toothbrush. How does that sound?'

The look of pure panic in Adam and Tommy’s eyes is pure gold.

Lane doesn’t even leave them time to reply, instead she just walks away smirking evilly. Because yes, she surely knows how to show them who’s the boss here.


End file.
